Journal 17 - Day 14 in Beaumont Pt.1

**Psychic Paper**
(Written in the Queen's French)
"How and what did you do when you are forced to work alongside someone who hold no respect for you? - Kii"
 
(Written in the Queen's French) **Part One of Two, a stolen quiet moment of reflection when Ildris and Kiiellien drop their ancestors off in the Cindercleft.**
Weird.
Confusing.
Scary.
Naïve.
Ditzy.
Aloof.
A zealous loon.
A riddler of prophetic nonsense.
 
Deemed best hidden away from prying eyes — for my safety, of course.
 
Weird.
Unique and lively may be the more accurate description, but weird I’ll wear with pride. I’m far too old not to notice the growing resentment disguised as concern from certain members of this “team."
A young tiefling girl named Jubilee — an intriguing little cutie — helped keep watch today. She showed no sign of conflict or prejudice toward me or Ildris. No hostility. Just curiosity. She had questions, and I answered them with grace.
But apparently, that was too much.
 
Gidget told her I spoke in riddles, that I was a prophetic weirdo to be ignored essentially.
All I said — in essence — was:
 
“See the Keepers as a good omen, not harbingers of doom.
We’re a sign from the gods that Beaumont still has the strength to fight.”
 
That’s what earned me another interruption. Another round of eye rolls and dismissive laughter. Gidget called me “weird” again once asked why I speak like I’m not from here, and later had the gall to pull me aside to advise I be “more cautious” in revealing myself to others.
Jubilee asked me about the Keepers — me, directly. I answered honestly alongside Ildris, kindly. Yet somehow, I’m the burden.
If that isn’t a lesson in misplaced judgment, I don’t know what is.
 
Gidget has officially lost my interest.
She’s intelligent and eager in fascinating ways, but her belittling, patronizing tone has worn thin.
Perhaps she can save her “pro tips” for someone who isn’t four times her age and experience.
 
No trust. No faith. No listening.
My frustration hides beneath a well-practiced mask of aloof grace — but I’m reading them all, as I always do.
Reading people is my favorite superpower. And my conclusions… are growing.
 
We found so many blessings today. And yet, I’m consumed by a deep, gnawing discontent.
 
It began with a blessed middle finger — deepening the tie to my girl Lux and her timeline. Then came Ildris, breaking and mending my stupid heart in the same breath, his arm slung around me in weary pain.
 
There was even an extremely bizarre naked man dancing before the college windows — that image still refuses to leave my mind — and Silas, clever as ever, saved another soul from the BRN.
 
A young girl found her way back to a childhood she'll never get to know. While another emerged with a gift of ash that brought a daydreamy smile to a weary face. We uncovered books, gadgets, spells, and secrets — relics lined with rare materials.
 
And yet, I can find no comfort of joy in all of these blessings. Not after what we found next.
 
One of our ancestors.
Desecrated. Transformed into an abomination of horror. Tortured for thousands of years — his heart burned, his pain suspended in a twisted, mangled body, kept alive in order to steal the knowledge worth dying for.
 
And still… he kept them.
He held his oath, just as Ildris did.
 
He was tormented so cruelly that the memory of his family became nothing but a faint glimmer in his shattered mind.
 
If love and loyalty like that are the marks of a Keeper, then perhaps I’ve been one all along. Because what I saw... that same devotion in them — in Ildris, in Zha’kar — and I hold the same.
 
When I heard his cries, his begging for death, I couldn’t stand by. Xhoya scolded me, and I don’t blame her. She doesn’t see me yet. Not truly. I know I am weird because even Xhoya confirms with her silent judgements... so perhaps I can find forgiveness for Gidget. But not yet...
 
If Xhoya could understand, she would see and know that I couldn’t let him suffer alone. I'd let the flames take me too. I burned with him. I shared what pain I could. And, I do not regret it — not even with the blistered skin to prove it.
 
If I could have taken more of his agony from him, I would have. That would’ve been my honor. Thank you once more, Ildris, for your quick and ever clever thinking. He saved our kin...
 
I do this;
because I love my people.
Because I was trained — shaped — to bear what others cannot.
 
Few here will ever understand that. Few still will even try.
 
Only one truly might — the one who sits beside me now, silent, contemplative. Together, we stare at the freed remains of our ancestor, knowing we helped him find some peace.
 
Two men, soon to reunite with their families at last. Both consumed not by vengeance, but by love.
 
Ildris took my pain again today. Lux's too. And now shares this mans pain with me once more.
He comforts, suppresses, and asks — so quietly — for nothing more than for me to help him find his wife and child.
I promised him I would. I’ll die to keep that promise. He deserves no less.
 
So I’ll stop looking at him selfishly. He’s my friend — and I owe him more than I can count.
 
Still… I feel angry.
Angry, and lost to my purpose here in Beaumont. What am I meant to be to these companions? To the gods? To myself?
 
Jaded, I refuse to be.
So I’ll wear the mask they’ve given me — the ditzy, eccentric fool. I’ll play along.
 
For now.
 
I’ll push it all down until I can see the path clearly again. Until I can listen to my goddess without the noise.
 
Aloof. Weird. Ditzy. Unassuming.
Maybe they’re right.
 
What am I even doing here?
 
— K.